The good abbé's first feeling was that of whole-hearted admiration for this masterpiece of naval architecture in full sail. Then he noticed that the frigate was moving. Next he looked around him,--and, finally, he uttered a cry of terror. The land of France looked no more than a cloud upon the horizon.... He regarded Bougainville with an expression in which was concentrated all the reproaches of a betrayed confidence. "My dear fellow," said Bougainville, "it gave me so much pleasure to see you, my oldest and dearest comrade, that I resolved we would remain together as long as possible. ... I wanted a chaplain on board my frigate; I asked His Majesty to let you fill this post, and he graciously granted it, together with a stipend of a thousand crowns.... Here is your commission." The Abbé Rémy flung a frightened glance at his appointment. "But," he said, "where are we going?" "Round the world, my dear man!" "How long does it take to go round the world?" "Oh, from three to three years and a half, more or less.... But reckon three and a half years rather than three." The abbé fell back, overcome, against the raised stand of the officers' watch. "Oh!" he murmured, "I shall never dare to appear before Marianne again!..." "I promise to take you to the presbytery and to make your peace with her," said Bougainville. On 15 May 1770, the frigate _Boudeuse_ re-entered the port of Saint-Malo. It was exactly three years and a half since she had left Havre; Bougainville was not a day out in his calculation. In that time she had been all round the world. Heaven alone knows what passed at the first interview which took place between the Abbé Rémy and Marianne. CHAPTER XI Breakfast on deck--Saint-Nazaire--A thing husbands never think of--Noirmontiers--Belle-Ile--I leave the two Paulines--The rope-ladder--The ship's boat--A total immersion--The inn at Saint-Nazaire--I throw money through the window--A batch of clothes--Return to Paris While these manœuvres were being put into execution, I rejoined our young married couple. "Well, monsieur," said the bride to me, "the moment has come for you to return to land and to leave us." "Not yet, madame," I said. She fixed her gaze on me. "Not yet?" she repeated. "No, madame; I have obtained permission from the captain not to leave you till the very last minute.... I am to lunch with you, and we shall still have several long hours to spend talking of France." "Thank you, monsieur," the husband replied. But now everybody who had come on board, either for business matters or for affairs of the heart, bade their adieux, got down into the boats, and went away from the ship. The anchor was drawn out of the water and catted, and _la Pauline_ began to obey the motion of the outgoing tide and the breeze. Slight as the movement was, it was enough to bring on a fresh paroxysm of grief in the case of the bride. I went back to the captain.